


Don't Look Back (Kanan)

by gondalsqueen



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Women of Star Wars Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 14:23:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4709243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gondalsqueen/pseuds/gondalsqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hope was a pain in his throat. Maybe this wasn’t a focused projection of his subconscious, after all. Even if it was, maybe it would last a little longer. As usual, he was caught unprepared. “Master, I don’t know what to ask. I don’t know anything.” </p><p>He heard a low laugh and couldn’t resist turning to see her. Just this once, she had said. Nothing waited behind him. Her presence, the voice—all gone. Even the air had cooled again. He’d lost it. He’d been stupid and greedy and he’d lost his chance to talk to her. </p><p>“Be patient, child. I’ve never known you to be without questions for long.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Look Back (Kanan)

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Women of Star Wars Week, Day 1 ("Don't look back"). 
> 
> (But whaaaat? Kanan’s not a woman!) 
> 
> Shh. I wanted to write a ghost story for this prompt. Which…didn’t really work. And I also wanted to take a closer look at Depa Billaba. So here you go!

Kanan folded his feet under his legs and sat again. He didn’t mind the cold ground or the chill in the air—if he concentrated in the slightest, they didn’t even pose a distraction. He was pretty sure that the disembodied voice of Master Yoda—which was to say his own subconscious, channeled through the Force—grudgingly approved of him. And thought he was kind of an idiot. Which was…better than he’d expected, coming in here, actually. 

A vision for the padawan, a vision for the—say it, Kanan—for the master, too. He hoped Ezra’s visions took such an innocuous form. But he knew better. 

“Child.”

The word came so close behind him that he could feel her breath—for it was certainly a woman’s voice—against his ear. He jumped around. Nothing there. Even the feeling had gone. 

Was this another test? Had he not passed the first one? No, of course not. If it were that easy, it wouldn’t have been a true test.

No reason to look around. Nothing would come to him until he was ready. He sat back down to meditate. 

“Caleb.” 

The same voice behind him, just as close. He jumped at his own name, a shock of fear running up his spine (“Caleb” means “I’ve been caught”), but kept himself from turning around. He could feel her presence now through the Force. 

“Master.” 

Was this a projection of his own mind? Was she real? Master Yoda had been comforting. But this one—he wanted to hear her voice so much it hurt. Maybe the vision was over. It had been nice for a moment.

“Caleb Dume.” 

This time it was still a shock, but not a surprise. “Master Billaba. Have you come with a test?” 

“No, Caleb. The test is for the padawan—you know that. I’ve come for you.” 

Another stab of panic. Ezra had failed. She was coming to take him to the other side. Was Ezra already dead? Maybe he could get through the door and into the inner rooms. He had to try. 

“Relax, child. I’ve come to talk.” 

“Talk? I’m sorry, Master, I don’t understand.” 

“To you. Traditionally, we would have cut your padawan braid years ago, and you would have had companions—other Jedi—to talk to. You would feel confident in your abilities as a Knight, if not as a Master, by the time you took a padawan of your own. You haven’t gotten that chance. So I’m here. In this sacred place. Just this once.” 

Hope was a pain in his throat. Maybe this wasn’t a focused projection of his subconscious, after all. Even if it was, maybe it would last a little longer. As usual, he was caught unprepared. “Master, I don’t know what to ask. I don’t know anything.” 

He heard a low laugh and couldn’t resist turning to see her.  _Just this once_ , she had said. Nothing waited behind him. Her presence, the voice—all gone. Even the air had cooled again. He’d lost it. He’d been stupid and greedy and he’d lost his chance to talk to her. 

“Be patient, child. I’ve never known you to be without questions for long.”

Thank the Force. Not a vision, then—not precisely, since he wasn’t allowed to see anything. Just another chance. He wouldn’t waste it. But taking advantage of it meant airing a lot of uncertainty. “It’s difficult to be patient when I should have learned all of this years ago. Master, you liked that I asked questions. But I haven’t answered any of those questions.” 

“Haven’t you?” 

He let that silence hang. No.

“Why did I not take Kasmir to task for insulting me?”

Because it would have been stupid and indulgent. He didn’t even have to think about the answer now. He composed his thoughts a bit more for Master Billaba, though. “Because it would have driven a rift between you and the Kallerans. He would have thought you were proud and petty.” Not for the first time, he wondered what his thirteen-year-old self had been thinking. 

“And would I not have taught him a lesson? Gained his respect?”

“Any respect that cannot be won without opening your saber cannot be won,” he parroted. It was an old aphorism, and he had learned it well in the years after her death. But these were surface-level answers; they didn’t really require any specialized Jedi knowledge. Any decent human being could have answered these. “Master, you trained me well, but…we just didn’t have time. I don’t know how to be a Jedi. I don’t know how to teach. How can I teach Ezra to be a Jedi?” 

Her voice behind his shoulder was wry and familiar. “Let me be the first to welcome you to adulthood.”

Kanan sighed heavily. He didn’t feel like an adult. Ezra would probably pass his test. The kid had a good heart, and he was used to taking his own guidance. He… Well, he still felt like a charlatan. 

She could tell. “Oh, Caleb. A master who has never stumbled…what can such a master teach, except facts? What does such a person know of compassion?”

Stumbled, huh? He wondered what she knew of his past. That was a hell of a ten-year pit he’d stumbled into. Kneeling in the temple, he made what would in the old days have been called a confession. “There’s more. I’ve failed to be compassionate because it was too dangerous. And I’ve fallen into attachment. To so many things in the world. I can’t lead this boy. I’m… stumbling around chasing things that I probably shouldn’t be. I’m afraid.” 

The glow in the room increased. He could feel her relief. Relief? 

“Caleb, do you know where I was before I took you as my padawan?” 

“You…had suffered a long illness.” He was aware of something darker behind it—not just a physical illness—but she hadn’t told him much. He hadn’t been her padawan for long. He added the last piece, ashamed of himself, “Some people said that you were still weak. Or…unstable. But you weren’t! All the troops…” What had those troops been? Secretly traitors the whole time? “All the troops admired your leadership.” 

Her quiet laughter. “I think ‘unstable’ was kind. Brace yourself. This is somewhat worse than attachment and fear. I went to the dark side. I broke every Jedi rule and I turned. And coming back from that… My body was broken. But it also broke my mind. One isn’t supposed to be able to come back. And I didn’t. I had to become a different person to make it.

And then when you became my padawan… I was in love with life again. Not attached—I was fully aware that after such a brush, I lived on borrowed time. By all rights I should have been dead. But finally, I saw the Force in a way that made sense. It gave me peace. And I wanted to share that with someone. 

And I also saw what had driven me away from the Jedi Code in the first place. We were too self-righteous, too inflexible. You say you suffer from attachment. We all suffer from attachment. Some of us just fear it so much that we hide it away.” 

It made sense. Meditation helped mitigate the worst impulses, the most stressful situations, but he had never been able to imagine living day-to-day devoid of all desires. 

“I think there are gradations that we did not teach,” she continued. “I think most Jedi missed the subtleties. I chose you because you questioned, Caleb Dume. I thought you would not stop questioning until you got answers. You wouldn’t accept the glib platitudes. You would find a better way.

And look—I was right. Here you are, in the ruins of our civilization, still asking questions. Still in love with life.”

He felt a momentary shame, and greater still, sweeping relief that she was coming to him now, and not in all those years when he’d drifted, hedonistic and hopeless. But that was WHY she was coming to him now—he had sought out this place for answers, to begin with.

“Caleb Dume, you are the new Jedi. You will have to find a different path than the one we took for all those thousands of years. You will have to do this without the luxury of our formalities, our rules. We will not be there to tell you what to do. Your way might be wrong, but it can’t be incorrect.” 

“Master, I was never wise like you. Never all that good at anything.” Even as a child, he could do a little of everything, but… Well, he still didn’t feel qualified to lead Ezra, much less take responsibility for the future of the Jedi.

By his ear came a sound suspiciously like a dismissive “Pshht.” Then, “You were always good at seeking out new things. I am proud of you.”

Her breath on his neck and the glow of the Force warmed the room. He imagined her kind, amused eyes, but he couldn’t see them. 

“Go on, Kanan Jarrus. There is nothing for you in the past. I can’t lead you anymore. 

But I’ll be right behind you.”


End file.
